


While You Laid Sleeping

by TheresaWritesStuff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25470799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheresaWritesStuff/pseuds/TheresaWritesStuff
Summary: Molly Hooper expected to spend her Christmas after the Great War much as she had the last few Christmases...Alone. Instead, an incident at the train station leads to a case of mistaken identity leaving the Holmes family thinking she is their eldest son's fiancee. Despite her nagging conscience, Molly finds herself unable to correct them, feeling the love of a family for the first time in a very long time. Soon Molly is faced with a choice. Lose her chance at being part of a family again or lose her chance at love with her supposed fiance's dashing younger brother...A Sherlolly twist on the holiday 90s classic While You Were Sleeping
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 22
Kudos: 39





	While You Laid Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! I initially started writing this during the holidays last year. And then life happened and kind of knocked my fic writing for a loop. And while I am still not back necessarily (I've got my hands full with a newborn!) I wanted to share this little snippet for the tumblr Christmas in July thing. And someday I will come back to it and write the rest along with my other WIPs...Eventually.  
> But I leave you with this bit for now.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Unbeta'd. Last bit written on very little sleep.

December 24th, 1918

A fresh dusting of snow crunched underneath Molly Hooper’s boots as she made her way through the heart of the sleepy village square. The chilled afternoon air brought with it the soft sigh of Christmas time; though whether it was a sigh of relief at the war’s final end or a sigh filled with grief for those not returning home this year, Molly couldn’t say. Christmas would certainly feel different this year. But it had been a long time since Christmas had felt special for her…

Still, there were always the little things worth smiling about. Like the cheery sound of the little bell above the post office door that welcomed her inside. 

“Afternoon, Molly,” Meena greeted from behind the counter. “Cutting it a little close with those Christmas cards this year, aren’t we?”

“This year and every year it seems,” Molly admitted, setting down her small bundle of envelopes to be sent out. “But ‘season’s greetings’ applies to the New Year as well, I suppose.”

Meena nodded in agreement. “You’re not the only one who has been a little preoccupied this year. I’ve always said it’s the thought that counts. Which reminds me, there’s a card here from Tom’s family for you.”

“Oh...Thank you, Meena.” Molly felt her gaze drift to the engagement ring she still wore on her left hand, her own personal badge of unfulfilled promises.

“Have you heard how they’ve been holding up?” Meena asked gently.

“As best as can be expected,” Molly replied, pushing away at the guilt rising in her chest. “I’m afraid I haven’t written much.”

“Sometimes there isn’t much to say…” Meena took the little bundle of envelopes from in front of her and placed a comforting hand on her folded forearm. “I know you weren’t as keen as he was, but I still think you did the right thing by sending him off with something to hope for.”

“For all the good it did him…” Molly replied somberly.

Meena nodded before lifting the envelopes in her hand in a motion of toast. “To Tom and the good men like him. May this time of peace be as noble as they were.”

Molly tipped her envelope to meet Meenas. “Happy Christmas, Meena.” 

“Happy Christmas, Molly.” 

A group of carolers passed by on the street as Molly walked out into the cold afternoon air, their dulcet tones mixing with the whistle of the train from the nearby station. 

She’d come to love the sound of a train rolling in. It reminded her of spending the afternoon with her father.   
When she was a little girl, the two of them would pack a picnic lunch to share as they watched the travelers rush by from the platform bench, playing at guessing where they were from or where they were headed. It was a game she still played by herself every now and then as a way to pass the time. A way of feeling closer to him, now that her father had passed.

It was this feeling that pulled her towards the station to do just that, if only for a few moments. 

It _was_ Christmas eve after all, she reminded herself. She was allowed to be a little nostalgic.

The platform was humming with activity when she finally found a place to sit. Families come to greet their traveling loved ones, children running every which way in celebration of being free of their railway confinement, soldiers finally home from the military hospitals that had done their best to patch these poor souls back together before sending them on their way.

She’d seen many a patient just like them during her last few years working as a war nurse. She’d done what she could to help them, as did many others like her, but there were days that it never felt like it was enough. 

She watched their faces as they passed by, some the picture of pure relief at being home and not back at the front, while others looked as if they were still there.

It was then that she saw him.   
There, standing at the end of the platform as he exited the train, his suit pressed and neat under his coat, hat perched just so atop his auburn hair. 

Her favorite gentleman.

Favorite from a distance at least. She’d never actually spoken to the man, though she’d often thought about it ever since she first encountered him all those years ago.

It had been in September, back when the war had only just begun. She had sat on a bench at this very station, taking her lunch while she studied her medical books, dreaming of a day when she could put this knowledge to use for more than just changing bandages and bedpans. She had been caught up in such a daydream when a young boy rushed past her, knocking her book from her hands as he grabbed her purse and ran off. 

Before she’d even been able to stand to chase after the boy or cry for help, she saw this man deftly trip the boy with his umbrella, halting his thievery in its tracks. 

She could still recall the way he had elegantly plucked her bag from the platform. Even more so, she remembered the way he’d looked at her with a sly sort of approval when he discovered what she had been reading.

“I believe you will be needing this,” he had said as he handed her book to her. 

It was a short, simple statement, perhaps. But the way he had said it, Molly felt as if he had given her back the world.

Yet by the time she’d found her voice to thank him, his train had arrived and he had departed as quickly as he came. 

Still, it was a meeting that had stuck with her, and someday Molly was determined that she would thank him. Properly. _Verbally_. Face to face...

Someday…when she finally got up the courage. 

She imagined him to be a man of importance, the way he carried himself upright and just so. She’d seen him sporadically throughout the years, often in a suit, a few times in uniform, always with an umbrella and a briefcase in hand, no doubt filled with a number of important files. Far more important and worth his time than anything she might manage to say… So she always sat and admired him from afar. Her nameless gentleman savior. 

The crowd began to thin, her camouflage dissipating. 

Molly picked up her bag to go, yet before she left she hazarded one more look, one more chance at bravery.

Her stomach dropped as she saw a ragamuffin group of teens begin to pester him, first for some change, then becoming rough as one brashly attempted to snatch his pocket watch. Stepping away from the ragtag crew as they began to push and shove from all sides, her gentleman slipped on the slick platform, falling hard onto the tracks below. 

Before she knew it, Molly was on her feet, sprinting towards him. 

His assailants scattered in a panic, leaving her alone on the platform. 

“Sir?” she called out, leaning carefully over the edge to see him. “Sir, are you alright?”

He lay motionless before her, arms splayed on the tracks. 

“Someone help!” She cried, hoping someone inside the station would hear her. 

Kneeling on the platform she tried again. “Sir? Oh please still be alive…”

As if an answer to her prayers, Molly noticed the faintest glint off his pocket watch in the sunlight, stirred ever so slightly by the movement of his chest. 

_Still breathing…_

Seeing no signs of immediate aid, Molly gathered her skirts and swung herself over the edge of the platform, stepping carefully down onto the tracks. 

She knelt beside him, gingerly taking his pulse and looking him over for any immediate signs of trauma. He would be sore for a time, but nothing appeared obviously broken. He’d fallen well at least...

“Sir, can you hear me?” she tried again.

She thought she saw his eyelids move slightly. 

Molly felt herself sigh in relief. “Just stay with me, okay?”

If he made any reply it was drowned out by the sound of the oncoming train rounding the corner of the tracks. Fast!

“Sir, if you can hear me, we need to move _now!”_ Molly informed him, panic rising in her chest. 

The whistle screamed as the train continued to barrel forward. 

She looked from the oncoming train to the man’s unconscious form before her.

There was no time for him to wake up and move of his own accord. 

As smoothly as she was able, Molly grabbed hold of his jacket, rolling him and herself safely off of the tracks moments before the train came rushing by.

Her heart hammering in her chest, she checked his neck and head again for signs of trauma. He was bleeding, but with proper care they could save him.

She could save him.

She reached for her handkerchief, pressing it carefully to the gash on his head to stem the bleeding.

He groaned slightly at her touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers.

“Hello,” Molly said, a smile of relief breaking across her face.

His eyes drifted closed again, consciousness leaving him once more.

An ambulance arrived with a whirlwind team of people ready to whisk her gentleman away. Somehow Molly managed to get them to agree to her riding along after she refused to leave his side.   
She needed to see him through this.

Someone must have alerted the hospital, for when they arrived a team of nurses and doctors alike was at the ready to wheel him away. It all happened in such a blur, it was all that Molly could do to keep up. 

They seemed to pay her little mind, too caught up in their own urgency and tense murmurs over the gurney as they wheeled him into the hospital. 

One doctor did take notice as she began to follow them beyond the hospital lobby.

“Family only beyond this point, miss,” he directed firmly, practically scolding her like a child. 

“I was with him at the scene. I’ve seen trauma cases like this before on the front. I can help! Please, I just need to know he’ll be alright.”

“Family _only_ , miss,” the doctor repeated harshly before wheeling him away. 

Molly clenched her fists at her side as the door slammed shut in front of her. She let out a shaky breath, hands held to her chest as she worried at Tom’s engagement ring absently.

“There was so much I had left to say…”

A passing nurse gave her a sympathetic smile, directing her to a chair where she could wait. 

Time ticked past like snow covered molasses.

Molly had nearly begun to doze in her seat when the nurse from before came up to her. 

“Follow me,” she whispered. 

Obediently, Molly obliged, following her down a long hall to the room where they had him resting, looking a bit better than he had on the tracks, but still unconscious. 

Molly hovered shyly at his bedside, grateful to see him, but unsure what to do with herself from here. 

“Is it true you were the one who saved him from the train, miss?” the nurse wondered quietly.

“Yes,” Molly murmured, her voice cracking slightly in her throat as she took in his features. 

“That’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” the nurse sighed. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Yet before she could turn to leave, she was met with a cacophony of voices coming down the hallway, swiftly followed by a frazzled looking doctor bursting through the door, a group of people following closely at his heels, all demanding answers at once. 

“Oh there’s my sweet Myckie! He looks so pale!” an older woman with silvering hair exclaimed, coming to his bedside. “Why is he so pale, Doctor Stamford? When is he going to wake up? How did this even happen?!”

“One question at a time, Lady Holmes, please,” begged Doctor Stamford, flipping through the chart in front of him.

“Violet, remember your heart darling,” an older gentleman, Molly assumed the woman’s husband, cautioned. 

“Yes, please do. Now is not the time for yet another heart attack,” Doctor Stamford agreed, eyes never leaving the chart.

 _“_ They weren't attacks. They were _episodes_ ,” Violet insisted haughtily.

“Of course they were dear,” a petite, honey haired woman of a similar age replied, coming alongside her. Under her breath she added, “And the past few years have been but a friendly schoolyard scuffle.”

“Martha Hudson, whose side are you on?” Violet demanded, aghast. 

“Your heart, Violet,” her husband reminded her gently.

“Oh shut it, Siger,” Violet huffed before turning to tutt over the bedside of who Molly could only assume was her son.

“Aunt Violet, really,” a younger woman, closer to Molly in age, reprimanded tiredly. She unwound her wrap, revealing her blonde locks, cropped short in the latest style. “Doctor Stamford if you could just tell us what happened…”

“That’s what I am trying to discern for myself, Lady Mary. I had only just arrived myself when you had,” the doctor explained, still trying to make sense of the chart in his frazzled state, Mary quite determinedly attempting to read over his shoulder.

“T-there was an accident at the station,” Molly piped up nervously.

They all turned to look at her, having completely missed her presence in their own flurry of emotions. 

Molly continued, finding her voice a little stronger. “Some young men started harassing him and he fell on the tracks. From what I was able to assess at the scene he hit his head but didn’t have any broken bones.”

“You’re not one of the nurses. Doctor Stamford, who is this woman? Who are you?” Violet demanded.

Molly blinked and tried to explain. 

“I was with him at the station--”

“She’s his fiancee,” the nurse that brought her in replied, her words overlapping Molly’s.

“I’m sorry?” Molly croaked, turning dumbfounded to the nurse.

But before she could say any more, Violet was on her feet coming to meet her. 

“His fiancee?” she breathed, eyes welling as she threw her arms around Molly tightly. “Oh, forgive me dear. We didn’t know! Mycroft never tells us anything these days.”

Violet pulled away slightly to shoot a reprimanding look at her unconscious son as if her words would still land as they would were he awake. 

“Oh, so you’re the one that saved his life. Well done, Miss. Well done!” Doctor Stamford praised, finally looking as if he’d gained a little understanding of the situation. 

“Saved his life?” Violet repeated. “Siger, our son found himself a guardian angel and didn’t bother to tell us.”

“Now, Violet, we can’t give them too hard of a time. I assume this is a fairly recent development,” her husband reminded her as the older woman resumed hugging Molly. _Tightly_.

“ _Very_ recent,” Molly agreed, not sure what else to say.

What else _could_ she say with the way this woman was hugging her tight, embracing her as a daughter…

“Violet, let the poor girl breathe. She’s been through a lot today without adding strangulation to her afternoon," Martha reminded her as she adjusted the sheets of the hospital bed.

Violet shot Martha a look, a glimmer of what Molly assumed was more akin to her usual demeanor showing through. She gave Molly an apologetic smile as she pulled away, dabbing at her eyes. "Please forgive the display…" 

"Molly," Molly supplied when it seemed she was silently asking for her name.

"Molly," Violet repeated, a hint of approval in her voice as she did so. "I promise I am not usually like this. It's just...We made it through these past wretched years only to have almost lost our son today. But thanks to you..." Violet let out a laugh, sniffling slightly. 

Siger came alongside her, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Not exactly how you pictured meeting the in-laws, is it?" He quipped in a gentle attempt to lighten the mood.

"You could say that," Molly agreed helplessly.

Violet smiled at her, regaining her composure. "We're just thankful you're here. We've got a lovely supper waiting if you'll join us."

"Oh I couldn't. I wouldn't want to impose…" Molly protested.

"Nonsense. It's Christmas eve! We'd be delighted to have you." Siger dismissed with a wave of a hand. "Isn't that right, Mrs. Hudson?"

She nodded in agreement from where she stood fluffing one of the pillows. "Absolutely dear. I've made a lovely roast. And of course there are the potatoes and the parsnips. Oh! And a lovely little spice cake for after supper."

"I certainly wouldn't be one to turn down Mrs. Hudson's spice cake if I were you, Miss," Doctor Stamford piped in, checking over his patients bedside. "In fact why don't you all retire to that lovely meal for a while and give Mr. Holmes some peace. It may be some time before he wakes up. No sense in letting a nice meal go to waste." He pointedly held out a hand to Mary, requesting his chart back. She had somehow managed to sneak it away from him for a better look.

Begrudgingly she complied.

Violet and Siger turned to Molly expectantly, Mrs. Hudson coming to join them.

"It's a very kind offer. But I'm afraid I can't tonight…" Molly insisted.

Siger took a pen and paper from inside his jacket, jotting down an address and handing it to her. "In case you change your mind." 

Molly smiled tightly and nodded, taking the slip from him.

The party reluctantly filed out into the hallway, giving doctor Stamford room to work.

Molly pulled the nurse aside as the Holmeses made their way out of earshot.

"Why did you tell them I was his fiancee?" She demanded, her voice hushed.

"I thought you were," the nurse replied. "You looked so worried. And you had the ring and I heard you saying that you had so much left to say. I just assumed…"

"Well you assumed wrong," Molly informed her, glancing after the Holmeses agitatedly.

"So why didn't you say something?" the nurse wondered.

"I don't know...You saw the way she hugged me back there. I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her like that."

Molly groaned, her head sinking into her hands. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Wait to see if he wakes up and hope he pops the question out of gratitude?" the nurse suggested.

Molly looked up at her incredulously from behind her fingers.

"No? Well you're on your own. Maybe pipe up sooner next time someone mistakes you for their new daughter in law."

Molly let out a sardonic laugh. "Sure. Next time…"


End file.
